Rejection… and part three of a night lost to the past: 1644 (scroll down if you don’t want to read the blog! I would she’s feeling sorry for herself! Wuss!)
Well, this week’s blog was going to be about something different, but on Wednesday I received my first rejection letter (How could they reject us ☹) and I said I would blog the journey to being published and rejection is part of the process. (I’m still sulking! What if she stops blogging? And gives up writing – I will be no more ☹) stop being dramatic!! (soz)
So how does it feel? Obviously, I feel sad that someone in the ‘professional’ world has rejected my book after I have received such good feedback so far from people that have read it. But it’s the first ever submission to the outside world and it was nice to get a little feedback in the message, I’m told that some authors barely get a response, so I will take the positives from this. This is what I received;
Thank you so much for sending us your material and apologies for the delay in getting back to you.
We’ve now had a chance to consider your work, and though there was much to admire unfortunately we didn’t feel strongly enough to be able to offer representation at this time. Due to the volume of submissions we receive I’m afraid we’re not in a position to offer further feedback or editorial advice, but we wish you the very best in finding the perfect home for your work.
All good wishes,
So, I don’t know how standard this is as a rejection email, but I’m encouraged by the ‘admire’ (Admire! It’s bloody brilliant! Wait, I keep being nice to you in this blog!) and from what I understand you can be rejected due to the story, characters not being strong enough, your pitch not being good enough, they already have enough of your genres on the books, etc.
What’s the plan now? Nothing changes, keep sending out and keep learning the craft until one day I’m published one way or another. (Bet she drinks loads of prosecco at the weekend – gets smashed – bores everyone to death with how good her book is!!) shut it – well actually I will be drinking fizz but that’s to celebrate my fab mates birthday – not to drown my sorrows of rejection!
If anyone is in the same boat, keep going, keep writing and keep sending out. (I’m going to print out the email and then shred it and burn it) NO you are not – I’ve just bought a new printer and you are not wasting the ink! (whatever – i will do what i want)
The third part of the Newark story is below for your enjoyment… part four next Friday 😊
The other two parts are in previous posts if you want to read those first.
A Night Lost to the Past
Part three; 1644
Ric and Pete didn’t have time to speak to each other before they were pushed into line; and on the march. Listening to the other soldiers, it sounded like they had won a battle a few nights ago, and their job today was to move some of the surrendered artillery. They heard someone mention ‘Sweet Lips’ whoever that was? probably something to do with Prince Rupert, Pete thought. They got some funny looks from some of the other soldiers, fancy dress civil war clothing didn’t quite cut the mustard when you had time travelled to that very era. There was an air of celebration and relief which was palpable in the air, so maybe they would get away with their outfits.
They lined up and marched through the castle gatehouse, the view was very different from the one they were used to; no Zizzi’s, Pizza Express or canal barge dominated the river Trent. Ric thought about the many arguments he had had with Pete when he not only got the rivers mixed up, but when he pronounced it wrong.
Ric heard one of the other soldiers say they were marching to the Sconce – at least they knew they weren’t going far.
Ric looked at Pete, he thought that he must look the same; pale, in shock and shit scared, their hangovers long forgotten about. Luckily, a lot of the other men looked very similar, they looked a lot thinner as well. They continued marching, what else could they do.
“We need to get out of this line,” Pete said to Ric.
“How?” Ric said.
“I don’t bloody know do I! Keep your eyes peeled for an opportunity. Maybe something we can hide behind then we can sneak back to the castle. Might be able to hide out under the bridge next to the river Devon.” Pete said.
“It’s pronounced ‘Deevon’. How many times do I have to tell you? and while we are at it, that’s the bloody Trent!”
“I couldn’t give a shit what it’s called Ric! For god’s sake I think that’s the least of our worries; which bloody river it is! I don’t care if it called the Devon, Deevon or dipshit.”
“Okay, calm down Pete, I was just saying.”
“Sorry Ric. I can’t believe what is happening to us. This is just crazy! I cannot get my head around it. I’m hoping it’s just a crazy alcohol fuelled dream, and we will wake up in that castle with Ben whining about his hangover.”
“What is Ben going to think when he wakes up and finds us gone? We need to get back and find him then we can figure a way out of this place. He’s in a Viking outfit for god’s sake. How the hell is he going to explain that!?”
For some reason they both found this ridiculously funny. They got some funny looks from some of the soldiers.
“What are those idiots laughing at?” a solder said.
“No idea, probably some of Rupert’s men – look better fed than us, and better clothes, they won’t be laughing when they get a cannon up their arse. They will be off on the march again soon.”
This set them off as well. Before they knew it most of the other soldiers were laughing; most didn’t know why. War did funny things to people.
The line of men headed towards the market place. It looked so different but at the same time some of the building were familiar. At least the Prince Rupert pub was still there. Ric and Pete had managed to calm their manic laughing, and looked with longing at the pub they had downed a few drinks in last night, if only they had had a quiet night in.
“Can you remember anything from the Civil War Pete?”
“Not a bloody thing. I kept meaning to go to the Civil War Museum but never got around to it. Last time we went, we only managed to get as far as the coffee shop. That was Karen’s fault – bloody obsessed with cake and coffee! Bloody hell what about Karen and her hobby horse!”
“If I had that hobby horse right now I would shove it…” Ric was interrupted by a sound of a cannon…